


FIC: Infidelity

by jagnikjen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jagnikjen/pseuds/jagnikjen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would have to end. Sooner rather than later. Harry Potter had never intended to be a home wrecker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FIC: Infidelity

**Infidelity**

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be anywhere near here.

Near _her._

But, like Hagrid to a wondrous and dangerous creature, Harry was drawn to her.

To Ginny.

Smart, funny, attractive.

Sweet, sexy, naughty.

But married. And not to him. A circumstance he was responsible for and loathed himself for each time he had to let her go home.

His and Ginny’s current relationship, such as it was, was neither of their fault and both their fault. He didn’t have the strength to give her up and live without her. He’d given her up once. Just walked away. For her own good, he'd told them both.

He'd lived without her for four years. They were the longest, loneliest years of his life.

Their paths had crossed once, twice, five times the previous year before they’d crossed the line. And now these fortnightly Tuesday afternoons spent in her presence, in her arms, were the only thing that kept him from going stark raving mad.

It would have to end, sooner rather than later. Harry Potter had never intended to be a home wrecker. It was unfair to Ginny. And it was unfair to her husband, who’d done nothing but what Harry should have done: loved her and married her.

~

Harry entered the luxury hotel in the West End. His pulse picked up speed in anticipation of seeing her, holding her, touching her.  His body stirred at the thought.

“Reservation for Harry Potter,” he said to the woman behind the sleek chest-high counter.

“Yes, Sir.” She typed quickly on the keyboard in front of her, glanced at the computer screen, and then handed him a key with a shiny gold tag attached to it. _St. Ermin’s Hotel_ was engraved in cursive script on one side and the room number on the other. “Your champagne and strawberries have already been delivered.”

“Thanks.” Harry pocketed the key and headed for the lifts and the suite on the fifth floor.

He pushed the door open, his stomach looping and his heart swelling. A whiff of vanilla and almonds and a trace of citrus tickled his nose.

_She was here_.

Hurrying into the lush and well-appointed suite, he found her curled up on one end of the sumptuous cream-colored sofa, knees to chest and her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking.

Fear gripped him then; his heart began to pound. _Please, no. Not yet. He wasn’t ready_.

“ _Ginny_.” He reached her side in half a dozen strides and dropped next to her, pulling her into his arms. “What’s wrong?” He was afraid to ask, but was no coward.

She shook her head, draped diagonally across his chest with her face tucked into his neck, and continued to weep.

Something was terribly wrong. Ginny rarely cried and always spoke her mind. But this was something else and he knew she wouldn’t say anything until she was good and ready. He held her and let her cry, stroking her hair, rubbing large circles on her back. Only the faint tick of the old wooden mantel clock sounded in the bright airy room.

Scenarios of all sorts flittered through his mind, though he was certain no one had died or become seriously ill. Ron would have told him if anything had happened to one of the Weasleys. And the Ministry would have contacted him if it had been Ron.

That left one of two, no, three things. Her job, her husband, or him.

She didn’t care this much about her job, so that left her husband or Harry.

And Harry was on borrowed time. But he wasn’t ready for this thing between them to end.

Not that he had a choice. It wasn’t up to him. It had never been up to him.

She finally sniffed and wiped her face. When she looked at him, her face was red and splotchy, but she was beautiful no matter what.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sniffing again.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, swallowing the lump in his throat. “No need. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

“I . . .” That’s as far as she got and closed her mouth. She shook her head, blinking back the tears that had reappeared. “Take me to bed, Harry.”

It was why they were there, after all, but he hesitated. If she was upset, he wasn’t about to take advantage of her. “We don’t have to.”

“I want to. I need you. I need you to . . . _fuck_ me.” Her voice was soft, rough.

He stilled in surprise. She rarely used language like that and usually only when she’d had a bit too much to drink, and in a playful manner, not a pleading one.

Suddenly she tugged his head down and kissed him, open-mouthed and urgently, her hands clutching handfuls of his hair.

Desperate. Reckless. Movements jerky, haphazard, but they turned him on none-the-less.

Sitting up, she straddled his lap. A moment later her blouse and bra were on the floor. Her sex was flush with his, now straining through his trousers, and her breasts were pressed to his face as she hugged his head.

Pressing a kiss to the smooth cant of flesh, Harry slid his hands up between their bodies and cupped her breasts, weighing them in his palms, rubbing his thumbs over the nubs of her nipples. Then he squeezed them. Hearing her _ahh_ of pleasure, he clutched harder till he felt the mass of tissue beneath the skin.

“Yes . . .” she murmured, grinding closer.

He pinched the rosy peaks between his thumbs and forefingers, a bit harder than normal, but was rewarded with a sharp inhalation and rough utterance of his name. His erection hurt now, trapped inside his clothes. He wanted to be inside her, to sink into the silky heat of her body.

Rough breathing filled the air around them as he laved and nipped at her nipples, and Harry realized it was coming from him. He needed her now. She moved against him, hands in his hair again, maneuvering his mouth to where she wanted it, whimpering and moaning with pleasure.

Fisting the open collar of his shirt, she pulled him into another messy, frantic kiss before scooting backwards, off his lap, onto the floor, and tugging him with her.

She gasped when her back hit the floor and she arched away from the cool surface for a moment. Her pale skin contrasted beautifully against the dark wood floor. Her hair spread like a fan about her head, glowing like burnished copper in the shaft of sunlight that spilled through the west-facing window. He took his place between her legs, both of them still dressed from the waist down, with his erection pressing painfully against her pubic bone, but she didn’t seem to care. 

Harry didn’t know what this was all about, but if today was the last time they were together, he wanted it to be perfect. He didn’t want to roll around on the hard wood floor and fuck. He wanted to make sweet passionate love to her. “Ginn—”

“No,” she said, panting, popping his shirt buttons through their buttonholes frantically. “Here, now.” She pushed the fabric over his shoulders and down his arms.

Harry struggled to an upright position on his knees and finished removing his shirt even as her hands worked his belt and trouser fasteners, his body stiffened further beneath her touch and became almost painful. He took over that task and pushed his trousers to his knees while she undid the button and zip of her jeans and shimmied out of her denims and lacy royal blue knickers and spread her legs. A becoming flush spread over her body and Harry’s breathing hitched. She was so damned beautiful.

Her eyes met his, wide and filled with need and something a bit dark and desperate.  “Harry . . .”

_Shite_.

The scent of her arousal teased him, drawing his eyes to the triangle of strawberry blonde hair. Neatly trimmed as always, the flesh beneath swollen, a bit of moisture glistened in the strands.

Falling forward, he landed on his hands, his elbows bending as he caught his own weight. With one hand, he slid the head of his erection along her opening and positioned it.

He met her gaze. She opened her legs wider as he thrust inside her, sheathing himself completely.

She inhaled and arched against him.

He too dragged in a breath. She was so wet and hot and tight.

He pulled back and thrust into her again. And again and again, grunting with each one. One slender leg curled around his and slid up his thigh, forcing him harder into her body. Long tapered fingers clutched and clawed at his shoulders and upper arms. The floor was hard on his knees, but he ignored the pain.

They’d never had such fierce sex. It wasn’t physically violent, but the emotions rolling off Ginny were intense, tempestuous, heartrending.  And Harry was afraid again.

He pushed the fear away and concentrated on Ginny and what they were doing.

The heat and the silky wetness.

The pleasure that throbbed within him, at the place where they were joined.

The tenseness as his body prepared for orgasm.

Ginny writhed and mewled and panted below him, bringing him even closer to climax.

“ _Oh . . . yes . . . Harry . . . ohhh . . ._ ”

Her body pulsed around his and he continued to pound into her until he could hold back no longer. He surged forward into her one last time and found release.

Warmth and heaviness spread throughout his limbs as he enjoyed the aftermath of sensations. He lowered himself to his elbows and kissed Ginny on the side of the head. Kissed moisture. _Tears_. His stomach tightened. “Ginny, what’s wrong? Have I hurt you?” He made to pull out of her body, away from her, but she wrapped arms and legs about him and held him close.

“He’s a good man, but he would never do this—never take me on the floor.”

She was quiet for a moment and he felt her inhale deeply and then exhale.

“I left him.

“For you.”

**~ Fin ~**


End file.
